


You're going to need a bigger boat

by Echo7



Series: Pupcake at the Pictures [2]
Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Movie Reference, Musical References, Pop Culture, Road Trips, nerd love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2020-02-04 16:13:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18608023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Echo7/pseuds/Echo7
Summary: After being separated for months, Delia decides they should go on a road trip to have fun and reconnect. What could go wrong?





	You're going to need a bigger boat

**Author's Note:**

> Oh hey, guys. I know this is not the update most of you were hoping to see from me, but I needed a little break from the **angst** of GoG. After receiving a lovely little comment from Jojo on my old one-shot _Laugh it up, fuzzball,_ I thought, "Hey, why not write another fun quick movie-based one-shot?" 
> 
> 7000+ words later, here we are. *sigh* 
> 
> Not as quick as I hoped, but it's fluffy and a bit silly and _exactly_ what I needed to clear my head.
> 
> This one exists within the same universe as Fuzzball, and can be seen as a sort of sequel, but reading the first is not necessary.
> 
> I hope you enjoy...

She should have known better, she really should have.

As she looks up in trepidation at the darkening Texas sky, Delia can’t help but think of all the missteps along the way that led her to this exact moment.

Really, she only has herself to blame.

\-----

“America?” Patsy asks, one eyebrow arched in obvious skepticism.

“Why not?”

“Now? Not say, like in, I don’t know, two years or so?” she deadpans.

Delia cringes, “Good point. But, horrific political situation aside, this is the perfect time for us both to take a long holiday.”

It was true, and they both knew it. Patsy had only been back for a few days after being in Hong Kong for months nursing her father through his final days. She had taken an indefinite leave since his illness was unpredictable, and she wanted to be there to see her last family member from this world. Meanwhile, Delia was about to start her new position as a nurse consultant in a few months, and with her upcoming pay rise, could afford to leave her old job early. Once they both returned to work, however, it would be a long time until they would be able to take more than a minibreak together. If they were lucky.

Although, that wasn’t her only reason.

“But why America? Why not, Australia or...Africa, even?” her girlfriend asks, and Delia notes the careful exclusion of another “A” named continent.

She takes a sip of her coffee and shrugs. “I just thought it would be nice to go somewhere together that neither of us has been before,” she says casually, knowing that even though they weren't particularly close, the loss of the last of her family is hitting her girlfriend harder than she cares to let on.

Delia knows that traveling was something that the Mounts used to do together as a family before Patsy’s mother got sick. And when they were older, she and her sister used to take a few weeks each year to travel to different destinations around Europe, Asia, and Africa before Libby’s tragic accident a few years ago. Patsy’s life has been filled with more loss than any thirty-three-year-old should have had to endure, so it is no wonder that she doesn’t like to talk about her family very much.

But there is one exception.

Stories of her family’s early travels and of her adventures with her little sister are some of the few things her girlfriend talks about from her past without that telltale tinge of sadness lacing her every word. So, Delia hopes that this trip could be a chance to reconnect with those happy memories without actually feeling like she’s retreading those same paths whilst the pain is so fresh. After all, Patsy did leave Asia out of her list for a reason.

“Say you will, Pats. Think of the fun we’d have. We could hire a car and even do the classic American road trip like they do in films.”

So, yes. A big part of Delia’s plan is to help the woman she loves grieve the family she has lost - the main part, actually. She knows Patsy, and left to her own devices the stubborn redhead would do that grieving at a physical distance, if at all. She would push Delia away. But Delia has already been away from her girlfriend for _months_ , feeling helpless as Charles Mount slowly wasted away before his daughter’s eyes. She needs her near, even if that means hours of silent driving through the desert in a rental car.

And honestly, she’s somewhat baffled that her well-traveled girlfriend had never been to the U.S.

Patsy bites her lip, clearly thinking it over, and then a sly half-smile hooks up her face. “Are you seriously suggesting we pull a _Thelma and Louise_ , Busby?”

The brunette scoffs. “Well, there will be no men involved, so I think we’ll be alright,” she pauses, adopting an exaggerated look of concern, “Although...I _have_ always wanted to see the Grand Canyon.”

The redhead’s eyes widen in shock, before narrowing into something a little smokier. After nearly two years together, her girlfriend’s dark humour had finally begun to rub off a little on Delia, and each time, Patsy seems to delight in the surprise of it.

“So, tell me, Ms. Busby,” she says, voice dropping into a sultry husk, “Where else would you be wanting to take me?”

If any of their friends were to ask, Delia would swear that she rolled her eyes at the cheesy double entendre, really she would. But her credibility is shite. She loves a bad innuendo, almost as much as a good pun, but hearing it from her proper public school-educated girlfriend does things to Delia’s insides that she’d rather not own up to. And Patsy _knows_ it.

Before long, her mug is abandoned on the coffee table and Delia’s inching her way towards the other end of the couch with a look she knows is downright predatory. She pushes the redhead back against the arm of the sofa and hovers over her until her lips ghost over the shell of her ear.

“There are so many places I’d love to take you, Patience,” she whispers, a smug grin sliding up her face when Patsy shivers, “But I think…” she pauses, enjoying the way her girlfriend is beginning to squirm beneath her as she runs light fingertips down her arms, “...my biggest fantasy...” she gently wraps her fingers around the redhead’s wrists and brings them above her head, “...is to take you…” she leans down to kiss Patsy’s long pale throat, before returning to her now much redder ear, “...to the World’s Largest Ball of Twine.”

The laughter is loud and rich, and something Delia has been sorely missing since before Patsy left for Hong Kong.

And if afterwards, Delia makes good on her teasing - well, she has missed more than just her gorgeous girlfriend’s laugh.

\-----

It started off as a joke, but in the end the World’s Largest Ball of Twine does end up on the itinerary. In fact, the only stops in major cities are primarily for the airports in New York and San Francisco. Large cities are easy to visit in shorter time frames, but the United States is vast, and Delia’s suggestion of a cross-country road trip requires the kind of time they aren’t likely to get again.

Within a few days, and what feels like one million google searches later, they have the route mapped - an over 4,000-mile meandering path that dips down from New York through Virginia and across Tennessee before heading back north through Missouri and over to Kansas. From there they plan to go south again into Texas then west to Arizona before going northwest to end up in San Francisco.

The driving alone would take at least a week if they did eight hours each day, a tall order for two women who are much more accustomed to trains for cross-continental journeys. They decide to take three, alternating days choosing the stops and attractions they’ll visit.

In retrospect, Delia will realise this was a mistake.

\-----

They decide to fly to the Atlantic coast and drive west so that they don’t lose hours as they cross time zones, spending a couple of days in the New York area to acclimatise to the five-hour time difference before they begin driving in earnest.

They spend the first day drinking fruity cocktails and relaxing on Fire Island. The beaches are so different from those Delia is used to back home, that she has to keep reminding herself that it’s the same ocean. The sand is soft on her feet, but the water is still chilly this early in the summer, providing a welcome respite from the heat of a cloudless June day. Patsy spends most of the afternoon snoozing under the umbrella they’d rented, and Delia lets her rest. These past few months have been unbearably hard on her girlfriend, and it is a relief to see her so relaxed.

The day before they’re set to start their drive they take the subway out to Coney Island for Delia’s first pick on their trip. The train rocks them gently, and as they emerge out into the above ground portion of the ride, the warmth of the June sun makes them both feel pleasantly sleepy, even though it is the middle of the day back home. But as they get closer to their destination, the buzz of excitement in the carriage begins to wake them up.

That, and the glitter covered ass cheeks that are suddenly at their eye level.

If they weren’t still in the train, and she weren’t under a hat and covered with the strongest sunscreen money can buy, Patsy’s red face could be mistaken for severe sunburn.

The Coney Island Mermaid Parade is like no other parade Delia has ever seen. It's sort of  like Pride, but _weirder_. Half-naked people of all genders and sexual orientations are slathered in body paint and homemade costumes of varying degrees of technical prowess. It’s like a vaguely nautical themed, Alice in Wonderland, acid trip.

It’s amazing.

Afterwards, they eat hot dogs from Nathan’s as they stroll along the boardwalk. As sunset approaches, they decide to ride the Wonder Wheel before heading back to their hotel. They choose a sliding carriage, both chuckling nervously as they ascend, and the car begins to move.

Delia isn’t afraid of heights. She has ridden ferris wheels dozens of times, has never been afraid of even the fastest roller coasters, but this is something completely different. She knows it’s perfectly safe, but the 99-year-old ride sure doesn’t feel it. The car slides along the rails with barely any friction, and when they reach a certain point in the large wheel’s rotation, it pitches forward, looking for all the world like they are about to slide right of the side of the ferris wheel.

She screams.

And as they roll around onto the lower portion of their elliptical track, the car swinging innocently and completely still attached, Patsy laughs. It’s that loud, full, rich, one again, and Delia’s heart feels happy even as it still pounds frantically in her chest.

\-----

They begin their trip by driving south through New Jersey. On the flight over, they had decided to only listen to American music from the state they are in as they travel. Springsteen and Sinatra take them through most of the Garden State, and they’re both screaming along to “Livin’ on a Prayer” as they cross the Delaware line, and without better options native to the state, they bend the rules and keep listening to Bon Jovi for the twenty minutes it takes to get into Maryland.

It’s strange, driving on the wrong side of the road, but Delia’s done it before and quickly gets used to it. What’s harder to get used to is gauging the distance they’ve traveled when the mile markers seem to reset whenever they cross state lines and the exit numbering system doesn’t seem to be consistent across the borders either.

She’s just starting to get a sense of things when they stop for lunch in a little crab shack on the Chesapeake Bay. The warm June air blows around their shoulders as they hammer into the shells of blue crabs and pick the succulent meat out with their fingers. When they're done, and Patsy has washed her hands three times, she takes the keys from Delia and they head towards the car. It's not until they've unlocked the doors that they realise they're on the wrong sides of the car.

It won’t be the last time.

The weather is blessedly perfect for driving, and when they turn off of I-495 onto a smaller highway just north of Silver Spring, Maryland, they roll down the windows and breathe in the humid air as the gentle tones of Beach House drift out of the car.

They pull up to a large concrete structure that immediately has them both giggling over its similarities to a Jawa’s sandcrawler. Delia was hesitant when Patsy suggested it because it felt a bit too much like work, but the National Museum of Health and Medicine is not at all what she expected. For one, it’s tiny - only three main exhibition spaces all on a single floor - but they are crammed full of specimens and fascinating displays about the history and developments of medical treatments since the mid-1800s. And for two, it’s far creepier. One display houses a brain and complete spinal column floating in liquid like the ghostly twin of a portuguese man-of-war jellyfish. Another has a preserved amputated leg from a patient who suffered from elephantiasis. Delia is a nurse, so she’s far from squeamish, but there’s just something off-putting about these jars of human specimens from the 19th century in displays that could be mistaken for Ikea cabinets. It’s an odd combination of interesting and bizarre, and Delia is starting to sense a theme for this trip.

\-----

They continue south through Virginia, listening to Ella Fitzgerald, Neko Case, and Missy Elliot. It’s a gorgeous drive along the Blue Ridge Parkway and looking out at the view, Delia can’t help but wish she could see it in autumn. They spend the day at Natural Bridge, enjoying the scenic beauty of the state park and the whimsy of the nearby dinosaur park and its fiberglass inhabitants.

In Tennessee, they stay in a cabin along the edge of Smoky Mountain National Park and spend the afternoon in Dollywood where they both are mesmerised by how beautiful bald eagles are and at how _tiny_ Dolly Parton’s dresses are.

They had listened to “Jolene” as they were pulling up to the theme park, but as a challenge, they otherwise eschew country music completely as they drive through the rest of the state. Tina Turner and Aretha Franklin take them through the eastern part, but as they approach Nashville things get a bit... silly.

Patsy is driving, so it’s Delia’s turn to DJ. She knows that the redhead would deny it to anyone else, but she secretly loves pop music. So, the brunette takes great pleasure in watching as her girlfriend’s mouth drops open as the opening electronic notes of “We R Who We R” start blaring over the sound system of their Nissan rental.

“Kesha is from Tennessee?” she asks, clearly shocked and more than a little delighted.

“Technically, she was born in LA, but she grew up right outside of Nashville...at least according to Wikipedia.”

Patsy listens quietly for a moment. “I suppose I can hear it in her accent now that I’m listening.”

Delia just hums in agreement, and as the song reaches its chorus, she adopts a serious expression and fixes her girlfriend with a steady gaze that she thinks she might have picked up from watching old Paula Abdul videos.

 _“Tonight we’re going har-har-har ha-ha-hard,”_ she sings, bouncing one shoulder in time with the stuttering word.

The road is blessedly light on traffic, so they aren’t in much danger as Patsy’s amused blue eyes flit between her and the highway. Delia continues her antics through the next few lines of the song until they both join in singing when the music picks up.

_“We’re dancing like we’re dum-dum-dum dum-dum-dumb…”_

And they are. And it’s glorious.

They stop for a late lunch of spicy fried chicken, and Delia is both happy and a little sad that they’ll be leaving the South soon. The food is delicious, but she feels like she would need to be finding a more active way to travel if they were here much longer.

Leaving Nashville, they head north. Delia is driving now, and with the need to focus on the increase in traffic around the state capital, it takes her a little too long to realise that the car is suspiciously quiet. When she finally looks over at the passenger seat, Patsy is giving her a _look_.

She’s gorgeous. The low afternoon sun is lighting up her blue eyes like flecks of topaz and her red hair is shining like polished copper. And again, there’s that _look_. It’s smoky and sultry and something that decidedly does not belong in a rented Nissan Altima traveling at sixty-seven miles-per-hour along I-24.

“Pats?” Delia says, voice lilting with suspicion, “What are you doing?”

Patsy simply raises a single eyebrow in response, and dammit if that doesn’t just complete the _look_. “I’m bringing sexy back, Busby,” she says in that husky voice of hers, and then she grins, and Justin Timberlake fills the car.

\-----

They drive northwest through the tip of Western Kentucky, listening to Loretta Lynn and the Everly Brothers, and end up spending much longer than anticipated at the National Quilt Museum in Paducah. It’s raining as they cut across Southern Illinois and begin to follow the Mississippi River north. It’s a strange drive filled with empty or near-empty old river towns, and not even singing along to the cheesy music of Chicago and REO Speedwagon can brighten the view.

When the rain finally clears, they pull into a scenic overlook to stretch their legs.

Patsy is leaning with her forearms on the guardrail, her eyes squinting through the humid mist as she looks down into the churning waters. The river is a rich brown from the mud it has pulled from its swollen banks. “It looks like the chocolate river in Willy Wonka,” she says, and Delia laughs.

It does. Delia always thought the river in the movie looked far too thin - like those cocoa packets with the tiny little freeze-dried marshmallows that you mix with hot water - and the Mississippi is the spitting image. She looks over to make a joke about Augustus Gloop, but stops when she sees that faraway look in her girlfriend’s eyes. Instead she joins her at the railing, forearms flush, and waits.

It’s loud down that close to the river, but Delia still catches it when her girlfriend starts to hum. It takes her a full minute to realise it’s the song that Gene Wilder sings when they enter the chocolate room. It takes another five for Patsy to actually start talking.

“Libby and I used to love that movie when we were kids,” she says at last, “She couldn’t think of a more brilliant place to live than a sweets factory.”

Delia smiles slightly, eyes still on the water below. “And I bet you loved those creepy little Oompa Loompas who cleaned up all the messes and disposed of the bodies,” she says, knocking her hip gently into the upper thigh of her tall girlfriend.

She hears a soft chuckle beside her. “Oh, we both did, actually. She liked all the scary bits too.”

Delia can hear the smile in Patsy’s voice so she finally turns to look at her. Her ginger hair is wavier than normal in the thick humidity, and it dances around her shoulders in the slight breeze. She’s still looking out at the muddy brown water, but her gaze is not as distant as it was.

“We used to build a tent of blankets and turn off all the lights. We’d each take a torch and sit cross-legged across from each other, then we’d flash the lights on our faces and on the sides of the tent while we pretended to be on the boat going through the tunnel.”

Delia grimaces, “I hated that part.”

Patsy gives her a knowing side eye, “Why am I not surprised.”

Delia’s only response is to roll her eyes and hip-check Patsy again, but it’s enough to earn her another chuckle.

They stand there in silence for another moment, but it’s more comfortable, and Delia waits quietly, knowing that Patsy isn’t done.

“She would have loved this. All these places we’re going, all the odd little attractions...she would have loved it.”

And when Patsy’s mouth quirks up into the bittersweet cousin of her usual fish hook smile, Delia can’t help but wrap her arm around her waist and pull her closer. She drops her head on her girlfriend's shoulder and they just stand there, looking out at the chocolatey river. After a moment, she feels Patsy’s head come to rest on top of her own.

“She would have loved you too.”

\-----

One day - and some delicious barbeque ribs that make Delia lament that it’s not just the South that is trying to give her a coronary - later, they’re pulling into Cawker City, Kansas. It’s a tiny town, with a population just under 500 people and one huge ball of twine.

Looking at it, Delia thinks that ‘ball’ is a misnomer. Sure, it probably started out that way, but the pride of Cawker City looks more like a tea cozy than a sphere. It is quite large, though.

The 'ball' sits on a little hill under a gazebo in the center of town. There are benches crowded around it under the roof, and despite its size, she can’t imagine why someone would need to look at the thing long enough to necessitate sitting. Patsy has other ideas, it seems. It’s just the two of them, and she makes a show of making herself comfortable on one of the benches, crossing her legs and draping one of her long arms over the back.

“So,” she says, arching one of her goddamn perfect eyebrows and dropping her naturally husky voice into an even lower register, “Is this where you wanted to take me?”

Fortunately, Delia is saved from her suddenly dry mouth by a woman’s voice calling out of the window of an old Ford pickup truck down on the street.

“You ladies want to add some twine to the ball?”

Surprisingly, and to Delia’s utter delight, it is Patsy who jumps at the opportunity. When she catches sight of the brunette’s raised eyebrows, she shrugs. “How often do you get to be a part of something like this?”

Dottie is a kind woman with the kind of skin that speaks of years working outside in all weather and smiling crow’s feet that speak of her jovial personality. She pulls a spool of twine right out of the bed of her truck and gets them started. When they thank her, she laughs, and says something that they are, by now, quite used to hearing, “You guys aren’t from around here are you?”

She walks them through the process of winding the twine, and explains to them the history behind the ball. It started out as a way for a local farmer to neatly dispose of scrap twine instead of leaving it scattered around his barn. Within four years, it weighed two and a half tons. Eventually the farmer donated the then 11-foot diameter ball to the town, and they took it up from there. Now, nearly sixty years later, the ball weighs over ten tons.

The pride in Dottie’s voice is obvious, and Delia can’t help but think Patsy was right.

How often _do_ you get a chance to be a part of something like this? It's a bit magical knowing that they will have woven a little part of themselves into the very heart of this little town. It makes Delia think of the Quilt Museum and the women who sewed their stories into a blanket to keep their loved ones warm. She wants nothing more than to reach out and wrap herself around the woman she loves too. But despite the fact that they’ve spent the last day listening to Melissa Etheridge and Janelle Monáe, this _is_ rural Kansas, so she settles for a smile that sinks her dimples deep into her cheeks.

Afterwards, they go across the street to the souvenir shop. Delia gets a little twine ball model for their flat, and Patsy gets a souvenir hat which she immediately pulls down to shade her sunburnt cheeks and nose. She smirks devilishly, and Delia has to exert every degree of her self-control not to pin her to the brick wall outside the shop, tip the bill of her cap up, and kiss her until they’re both breathless.

They decide to check into their hotel early that afternoon. Promises _were_ made after all.

\-----

A two day drive due south takes them through Oklahoma and deep into Texas. It’s not the most efficient route, but after Delia’s joke about the ball of twine on their sofa back home (and the laughter-filled activity that followed), Patsy had been adamant that they go. She’d also been adamant that they go to Austin, despite the brunette’s very logical reasoning that it adds a good ten hours of unnecessary driving to their trip.

The whole situation makes Delia suspicious. Patsy is usually the personification of efficiency, and this addition to the route is anything but. She’s tried to get it out of her on multiple occasions, but the redhead is either evasive or deflects in a way that makes Delia quite certain that she is hiding something. It’s intriguing.

They listen to Reba McEntire and the Flaming Lips as they make their way through Oklahoma, and the latter group’s music seems to fit perfectly with the scenery. The ground is so flat that it seems to stretch endlessly across their field of vision, enveloping them completely much like the band’s layered soundscapes. Delia had never really noticed how accustomed she was to having hills, mountains, and buildings to break up the endless horizon line until they’re gone. It’s like being at sea without a drop of water in sight. It’s strangely beautiful, but it also makes for some long driving. The scenery is laid out before them for miles with very few surprises waiting around the bend - and very few bends in general.

They stop for dinner in Arcadia, just north of Oklahoma City on Route 66. From the outside, Pop’s almost looks like it could be straight out of an old film about the famed highway, with its gigantic cantilevered roof covering old-fashioned looking petrol pumps. Out front is a huge sculpture in the shape of a soda bottle made of lit up metal rings that change colors in the fading evening sky. They eat burgers and onion rings, and afterwards spend a good thirty minutes picking out soft-drinks from the store’s impressive selection. There’re hundreds of flavours, all organised by colour, and they both have fun trying to outdo each other in finding the oddest and most delicious sounding ones.

They end up buying far too many.

The drive the next day is fueled by pure high fructose corn syrup as they make their way into Texas, but by the time they get to Austin, they are crashing hard from their sugar high. They’re about halfway through the trip now, and after nearly thirty-five hours of driving, they are both exhausted and a little irritable. Patsy is still being tight-lipped about the reasoning for their out-of-the-way journey to the Texas state capital, and as she flops like a starfish onto the bed of their downtown hotel, Delia can’t help but think that she better have a good bloody reason.

She’s mollified a little by the fact that they at least had the foresight to book three nights here so that they could have two full days out of the car to recoup. It’s the only semi-major city on the trip, and they justified the bending of their rules by noting that most of the places they’ve been to thus far had very little to fill more than one day.

After a good night’s sleep and some delicious breakfast tacos at Torchy’s, Delia is suddenly one hundred percent on board with their detour. Austin is a wonderful city. The people are friendly, the weather is sunny and hot, and for the first time since they left New York, they are able to walk down the street hand-in-hand without giving it a second thought.

It’s also the perfect place to spend their first full day without having to worry about driving the next morning.

By midday they find their way to Rainy Street. Downtown Austin is experiencing somewhat of a construction boom, so the old bungalows on the little street in the southeast corner of the city center seem completely out of place at first glance. But they aren’t homes. These historic houses have all been transformed into restaurants and bars, each with a distinct style and theme. They start the afternoon at a bar that serves only craft beers made in the state, and they’re working their way slowly through their third round as the street begins to grow livelier with the after-work crowd. The alcohol, combined with the prospect of not having to drive tomorrow, has them both feeling happy and loose as they make their way down the street and wander into a place called Banger’s for sausages and more beer. The outdoor seating is somewhat communal, and their accents once again seem to invite comment. Before they know it, they’re engaged in a hilarious conversation about the differences between American and British English with a lovely couple named Garrett and Ryan, the latter of which is wearing a hot pink bum bag that was the genesis of the discussion.

Patsy’s cheeks are already a bit pink from being in the sun, but the alcohol seems to make them even rosier and her smile just a little wider and freer. She laughs that loud, rich laugh again whenever Garrett finds a more creative way to work “fanny pack” into the conversation, and it’s such a wonderful sound that Delia is more than happy to not be the source of it this time. Patsy is leaning away from the table on the bench beside Garrett, with her head thrown back in laughter. The fairy lights strung around the outdoor seating area seem to twinkle in her eyes like fireflies, and Delia doesn’t think she’s ever looked more gorgeous.

“You’ve got it bad, huh,” Ryan leans over to comment, and Delia just smiles, her eyes never leaving the woman she loves.

“Can you blame me?”

\-----

By the next evening, she’s rethinking her stance.

It started off innocently enough, with Patsy finally revealing the reason for their ten-hour detour in the afternoon. Well, sort of. All she will tell Delia is that she needs to wear her bathing suit.

The brunette starts digging through her shoulder bag for her phone as she trails her excited girlfriend through the parking garage towards their rental car. Patsy is practically bouncing along in her cut-off shorts and flip-flops, and Delia cannot resist the opportunity to shoot a video to document such heretofore unknown peppiness.

She hits record and after filming the redhead’s springy step for a few seconds she calls out, “Hey, Pats? Where are we going?”

And Patsy, honest to God, _skips_ as she merrily calls, “Swimmiiiing!” over her shoulder in a _horrible_ American accent, before bursting into self-amused laughter like she’s just told the funniest joke in the world.

Delia stops the recording once she realises that the camera is shaking far too hard from her laughter and promptly sends the video to Trixie without comment.

Her phone buzzes as they are pulling onto the MoPac Expressway, and luckily Patsy is too busy singing along to “Me and Bobby McGee” to notice.

_Delia Kerris Busby. Did you get her high?_

She can’t hold back the quiet snort of laughter, and Patsy looks over at her. Busted.

“Who are you messaging?”

“Trixie,” she says, her thumbs moving rapidly over the keyboard on the screen as she tries to sound casual.

_Nope. 100% sober. Hence the need for documentation._

“She was just checking in to ask what we were up to.”

Alright, that was a broad interpretation of the facts, but Patsy was keeping her secrets, so Delia felt like she could have hers for a little while. Besides, she knows the truth will come out eventually. There is absolutely no chance that Trixie will restrain herself from gleefully teasing her best friend for it later.

Patsy narrows her eyes, clearly suspicious of why _her_ best friend would message Delia for an update and not her.

Delia just turns the volume up a little and looks innocently out the window as she begins to sing, _“Freedom’s just another word for nothin’ left to lose…”_

She can feel Patsy’s skeptical gaze on her for another long moment, but she just keeps singing. Her phone buzzes again in her hand, but she ignores it until they are well out of Austin city limits and into the first verse of “Wide Open Spaces.”

It’s a gif from _Fleabag_ of Phoebe Waller Bridge giving the camera one of her side-eyed looks, and it’s so perfectly Trixie in that moment that Delia almost feels a little homesick.

But then Patsy rolls the windows down, and the dry Texas heat is whipping through their hair, and they’re both singing at the top of their lungs.

_“She needed...wide open spaces. Room to make the big mistakes.”_

And she can’t imagine wanting to be anywhere else.

\----

It isn’t much later that they’re pulling into the car park for the Volente Beach Resort and Water Park at Lake Travis, and Delia is more than a little shocked. This is so _not_ Patsy’s kind of thing, so she is still a bit flummoxed by her girlfriend’s continued excitement.

But they have a fun afternoon - zipping down the Sidewinder and sipping cocktails as they drift along in the Lazy Lagoon. It’s a perfect combination of fun and relaxing, but no matter how lovely it is, it definitely doesn’t seem a good enough catalyst for taking such a detour.

The penny finally drops as six o’clock approaches and an announcement over the loudspeakers informs them that those visitors who don’t have tickets for the night’s special event will need to be leaving soon.

She should have known better, she really should have.

\-----

One of the first trying moments in their then-budding relationship had been when Patsy confessed to not liking _Star Wars_ , or sci-fi and fantasy in general. If it had been a matter of taste, Delia would have let it go, but it hadn’t been. Patsy had dismissed them on principle. That principle being that she liked her entertainment to be firmly rooted in reality. Luckily, Delia had convinced her to give the genre a try, and her new girlfriend had quickly become a fan.

It wasn’t even four months later that Delia found out that that original principle had been an outright lie.

The discovery happened much like it had with _Star Wars_ , with Patsy scrolling through Netflix and Delia placing a takeaway order. But this time, no notification pinged in the Welshwoman’s hand. This time, it was Delia who was surprised by the sudden excitement of her partner.

“Oh! I wanted to see this, but I missed it when it was in the cinema,” Patsy said, her voice filled with an odd note of excitement, “I so loved the original!”

Delia looked up from her phone and felt her stomach drop.

A terrifying clown holding a red balloon stared back at her from the screen.

“ _IT_?” she squeaked, her voice nearly a whisper.

“Have you seen it?” Patsy asked, eager blue eyes turning to her girlfriend who was now rapidly and vehemently shaking her head in the negative.

“Do you want to?”

The head shaking continued with more gusto, and Delia finally found her voice, “I don’t like scary movies.”

A mischievous smile began to spread across the redhead’s face.

“What scary movies have you seen that you didn’t like?” she asked, mimicking the very same question that Delia had asked her in October.

 _Shit_.

It turned out that Patsy loved scary movies, regardless of whether or not they were rooted in reality. She loved the classics like _Psycho_ , _Halloween_ , and _Nightmare on Elm Street_. She loved the Stephen King ones like _The Shining_ , _Carrie_ , and _IT_. She even loved the campy, self-aware _Scream_ series.

Thank god she drew the line at torture-porn like _Saw_.

So, Delia found herself giving in to a slow tour through the horror genre. Fortunately, Patsy was an accommodating guide, listening to Delia’s criticisms to inform her next choice of film and never hesitating to turn it off if the brunette was feeling too uncomfortable. Delia found she didn’t mind the movies as much if they had good characters and enough plot between the scares. And when the scary parts were too much, being able to hide her face in her girlfriend’s shoulder was a definite plus.

However, she still would not consider herself a fan of the genre.

\-----

As the announcer finishes his address, Delia turns to her girlfriend with what she knows is a look of utter betrayal. Patsy just grins, wide and cheshire, looking for all the world like she’s just won the goddamn lottery.

_Jaws._

They are going to watch _Jaws._

Whilst floating on inner tubes.

In fucking open water.

Sure, the rational side of Delia’s brain _knows_ that it is a freshwater lake, and thus there’s no danger of sharks. And sure, she _knows_ it’s just a movie, and from the snippets off the film she has inevitably seen throughout her life, the shark isn’t terribly realistic. But as she stands on the edge of Lake Travis looking out at the crowd of people floating just offshore, it’s clear her rational side has fucked right off, and her nerves are already on high alert.

They don’t see many sharks off the coast of Wales, and the ones they do get are not prone to attack humans. As far as she knows, there’s never been a single attack in her lifetime. So, she really doesn’t have a fear of sharks, per se, she’s just never had to think about them before.

And now she is.

She really, _really_ is.

Fortunately, Patsy is not completely heartless or unprepared for her distress. When she joins her on the concrete steps that lead down into the water, one long arm is looped through her inner tube, and each hand is holding a plastic cup.

“Here,” she says, handing the one from her tube-free arm over with a sheepish smile, “I got you a double.”

Delia takes the drink with ill grace.

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this, Patience,” she says, trying to hide her nerves behind her customary teasing tone.

But Patsy clearly sees through her. She reaches out and takes Delia’s hand, encouraging her to turn to face her. “We don’t have to if you’re uncomfortable. We can leave right now, and I wouldn’t mind. Truly.”

She means it too, Delia can tell. Despite her clear excitement. Despite having added this out of the way stop to their itinerary for this very purpose, Patsy would be completely happy to leave if that’s what Delia wanted. And the knowledge of that fact makes her feel safe.

Delia grips her hand tighter, and feels some of the tension bleed out of her shoulders as she looks into those earnest blue eyes.

“We can stay,” she says, and Patsy beams. The Welshwoman rolls her eyes fondly and takes a sip from her gin and tonic, an idea suddenly occurring to her. “But I have my conditions.”

A sly grin hooks its way up the redhead’s face. “Name them.”

She extends her thumb out. “You fetch all the drinks,” raising her index finger she adds a caveat, “But you never leave me alone when you know a scary bit is coming up.”

“Naturally.”

A third finger goes into the air. “You drive us home tonight.”

“Was already planning to.”

A fourth finger joins the others. “You take first shift driving tomorrow because I have a feeling I might have a hell of a hangover.”

“Well that just seems sensible.”

“And finally,” she extends her pinky, her own mischievous smile beginning to slide up her face, “We skip the clown motel.”

Patsy gasps. “You wouldn’t.”

Patsy had discovered the Clown Motel during the second day of their planning, soon after they had decided to choose more unusual destinations for their cross-country trek. It’s in a small town in Nevada, southeast of Reno, and is home to over 600 clowns. _And_ the rooms look out onto the creepiest looking desert cemetery you can possibly imagine. It’s like a bizarre combination of _IT_ , _Pet Sematary_ , and _The Shining_ all rolled into one terrifying, primary coloured package, and _of course_ Delia would never take that nightmare scenario away from the woman she loves.

But that doesn’t mean she can’t tease her.

“My terms are firm,” she says, voice and face completely serious.

Patsy looks so utterly torn, that Delia eventually has mercy on her and breaks into a wide grin. It takes a moment, but understanding finally flickers in those blues eyes, before quickly smoldering into a different kind of fire that means nothing but trouble. Wonderful, glorious, trouble.

“Are you quite sure?” Patsy asks, voice low as she takes a step into the brunette’s space, “No chance at all for negotiation?”

“Depends,” Delia says, turning her head and taking a casual sip of her drink. “What’s on the table?”

Oh, and _that_ was a mistake. Patsy takes advantage of her exposed profile and steps even closer, leaning in to whisper against her ear in that goddamn husky voice that makes Delia’s insides turn liquid, “Well, unfortunately we don’t have a table in our hotel room, but I’m happy to explore as many other venues as you require.”

Without a word, Delia grabs her hand and pulls her down the steps into the blessedly cool water. She places her cup in the recessed holder of her inner tube and begins to kick her way out into the lake, pushing her float in front of her. If Patsy is confused by the sudden turn of events, she makes no comment, and just follows.

Delia swims to the very back of the crowd, right in line with the middle of the screen, and stops to catch her breath. When Patsy arrives a few seconds later she spins around in the water and pulls the redhead forward by the shoulders into a fiery kiss that makes her feel completely weightless. They break apart, still so close they’re breathing each other’s air.

“I love you,” Delia tells her.

Patsy’s smile looks a little punch-drunk, and it’s completely endearing. “Does that mean my terms are acceptable?”

Delia grins. “You know I’d go anywhere with you, Pats.”

“Even to a scary clown motel?” she asks, fish hook smile in place and eyes shining with love even in the gathering darkness.

Delia laughs, nodding her head. “Even to a scary clown motel,” she promises.

The crowd erupts into cheers and the ominous John Williams score begins to fill the night.

As she looks up in trepidation at the dark Texas sky, Delia can’t help but think of all the missteps along the way that led her to this exact moment.

Really, she only has herself to blame.

And she’s never been happier to be so foolish.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> So I have a series now, I guess? 
> 
> Yes, this came about because 3tons suggested on a comment on Fuzzball that I do one where they see Jaws. So if you'd like me to write a meandering, barely related, story about a certain movie, feel free to send me a suggestion. I make no promises of when or if I will get to them, but I don't anticipate this being the last time I'll need to reboot to get back into the heavy narrative of GoG. Either post them in the comments, or if you want to be more secretive, send them to echo7fic [at] gmail.com. (sorry, no tumblr for this gal, I can barely keep up with my own art instagram that I really should be much better about)
> 
> Now a couple of notes:  
> All places and events are real and I have been to a few but not all. I hope it doesn't show which ones.
> 
> I really didn't intend to include music in this one as much as I did, but it _is_ a road trip, after all. So, here is a link to a sampling of their playlist through the states they went through during the story: https://spoti.fi/2XLk4se


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